


The Voice of Reason

by Brate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Families of Choice, Gen, Uncle Bobby!, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brate/pseuds/Brate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby has always been the reasonable one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Voice of Reason

_Then_

__Bobby winced as another door slammed. With a little more force, it would fly off the hinges.

"Knock it off!"

"Sorry, Uncle Bobby!" twin voices chorused.

Sam and Dean had been arguing all morning about God knew what. Thankfully they'd stayed away from him, so he didn't have to get involved. Because, as much as he liked those damn kids, they were still damn kids. The only thing he could do was keep his house from being destroyed.

A door slammed—again. 

That was it. He put down the book he was reading and yelled, "You two…outside, _now_!"

Clomping feet flew down the stairs and the front door smashed open against the outside wall. Bobby heard the sounds of debate fade as the boys ran further out into the yard.

Blessed silence.

Two seconds after he picked the book back up, the air was split by Sam's high-pitched scream of anger. Bobby's short reprieve was over. He went to the door and threw it open. "Get your butts back in here!"

The boys scrambled inside, tripping and pushing, then stood in front of him, waiting. 

Bobby crossed his arms over his chest. "Now you two have been going on and on, and I have had enough."

"Well, who do you think's right, Uncle Bobby?" Sam asked way too innocently. Kid was gonna be trouble when he was older.

Shit. 

"Well, I'm sure both of you have a valid point of view," Bobby offered, hoping to escape whatever fresh hell this was.

Sam— _goddamn him_ —rolled his eyes. "Come on…"

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Who's _right_?"

Bobby sighed. Either way he answered, he was screwed. John wouldn't be home for two more days, and he was gonna have to live with both boys until that bastard returned. Only one thing to do. He manned up. "Okay, what exactly are you two arguing about?"

Sam, bouncing from foot to foot, opened his mouth, but Dean shoved him aside and said, "Sam thinks Spider-Man is the best superhero, but I say Superman."

Bobby paused. "What was that?"

Dean dutifully repeated himself. 

"I'm sorry; you boys have been fighting for nigh on three hours about that?"

The Winchesters nodded.

Bobby lifted his hat and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Lord give him mercy. He replaced the hat and stared down at the boys. "That's got to be the stupidest question you've ever asked."

The boys ducked their heads, turning red.

"Everyone knows Batman's the ass-kicker."

Dean exchanged a grin with Sam.

"Now get out of here before I toss you both out the front window."

The boys scurried to comply, with a "Thanks, Bobby!" tossed out behind. 

Bobby watched them jostle each other as they headed over to play with the dog. Kids. For a second, he was glad he and Karen never had any. But then he imagined a little mouth curving with his wife's smile, or her eyes peeking up at him from a tiny face. 

That, he would've liked to have seen.

 

_Now_

__Bobby could hear Dean was awake—the stomping boots reverberated through his house, shaking the rafters. It took him longer than usual to gussy himself up this morning before coming down the stairs, blessedly delaying the yelling Bobby was sure to come.

Since the idiot had sold his soul, Sam said Dean had been running at full blast, as if attempting to make up for the years he was going to miss out on. So Bobby had insisted the boys come to his place to rest for a few days. Which, of course, meant that while Dean fiddled around with the cars, Sam would continue to scour through his books at all hours trying to come up with a way to save his brother.

Dean passed Bobby sitting at the table, grunted a _morning_ , and went directly to the coffee pot on the counter, business as usual. After he'd inhaled a cup, Dean lifted his head and looked around, almost human again. He refilled his cup and plopped down across from Bobby. "Where's Sam?"

Ready for the question, Bobby calmly turned a page of the newspaper he was reading before answering, "Out."

Dean snapped fully awake.

"Bobby," he said, all too carefully, "where is Sam?"

Lowering his paper, Bobby looked at Dean and said, "He had an errand to run." Bobby wasn't going to mention the errand happened to include a possible way to keep the elder Winchester out of hell. The method was a little risky, but it'd be worth it if it worked. 

'Course, Dean would figure it out soon enough on his own. After all, the brothers had been fighting about it for two days straight.

Bobby saw the exact moment of comprehension.

"Goddammit!" Dean threw the cup across the room, shattering it against the wall.

Bobby leaned back in the chair and jerked his thumb toward the carnage. "Yeah, you're gonna be the one to clean that up."

"Forget the cup! Sam's doing something stupid, isn't he?"

"Some people might think it, yeah. But he didn't seem to," Bobby answered, not losing his even tone. He could see Dean's anger for what it really was: worry. But that wasn't going to change Bobby's or Sam's decision to do whatever they could to save Dean.

"He and I discussed this already." 

Bobby snorted. "Not exactly a discussion when you two were yelling loud enough to peel off my wallpaper." 

"I have to discuss things like that because the kid doesn't listen otherwise," Dean countered.

"Appears he didn't listen, anyway."

Deflated, Dean tried, "Bobby—"

"Now, you listen to me," Bobby snapped. "That kid loves you more than he loves anything, including his own life."

Dean flinched.

"And," Bobby continued, "he's going to do his damndest to make sure you stick around. I know you don't see it that way, but there's still some of us who aren't ready to let you go quite yet." 

"But—"

"But nothing. What Sam has in mind wouldn't screw up your deal, so quit yer bellyaching. And I don't care if you are living on borrowed time, you still need to get your butt in gear and clean up that mess—I ain't yer maid. 'Sides, I liked that cup."

Dean rolled his eyes and rose to pick up the shattered ceramic. "I'll steal you a new one next time I go to McDonald's," he muttered.

Bobby swallowed the automatic laugh, wanting to get the message through one of the thickest heads he'd ever run across. "Dean, you can tell your brother whatever you want, and you can spend your final months arguing, but that boy's gonna do whatever it takes to keep you outta hell, and I'm on his side." 

Dean stilled for a moment, then went back to cleaning.

Bobby could tell what he'd just said wouldn't make a damn bit of difference. Dean would continue to fight every step of the way—still believing his life was easily forfeit—and Sam would fight every step of the way to save him. Unfortunately, they were running out of time to make sure Dean's death wish didn't become a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

Not for the first time, Bobby cursed John Winchester for raising sons who were so damn reckless with their own lives.

And not for the first time, Bobby wished the boys had been his.


End file.
